Okay I am one step closer to the gig I told you guys about. Everything is tingling inside. When I get like this I tend to reflect and dig through archives of stuff. Maybe it's a way of trying to remain humble when all you want to do is scream out loud. I stumbled across a folder titled "writings" inside the folder are letters from dear friends that I've kept for many years.

Here are a few of the writings.

"Let us risk remembering that we never stop silently loving those we once loved out loud"

"I always felt like I was given the wrong part in the wrong play. It was a script written for someone else"

"My disconnectedness formed a distinct aura around me that people notice, but cannot recognize"

"I might have been lucky enough to be saved by being adopted - but I still experienced falling"

"In her presence I didn't like her. In her absence, I longed for her"

"How do you find out about your past when it's so tightly woven with someone else's anger, misery and frustration?"

"When I would move towards Frankie I was also moving towards the original trauma. The unexpressed grief and anger lie in ambush"